Elemental - the Untold Story
by creativeminds1896
Summary: Lauren Peters was tortured by the memories of a horrendous event - and walked away with unexplainable abilities. Lauren questions her sanity and newfound talents, but finds answers with an organization called SHIELD. She learns how to control her powers and is thrown into unexpected circumstances that turn her into a legend. Cap/OC. Spans Avengers, Cap 2, and Age of Ultron. HIATUS.
1. Destruction

Chapter 1: Destruction

* * *

 _Seven devils all around me_

 _Seven devils in my house_

 _See they were there before I woke up this morning_

 _I'll be dead before the day is done_

Seven Devils by Florence and the Machine

* * *

Every day was like a nightmare and every night I witnessed it over and over again. I couldn't escape it, no matter what I did. Books and writing down what happened were, unfortunately, no help, and my psychiatrist was worried about my mental stability.

 _You shouldn't be like this, Lauren,_ I told myself. _You're stronger than this. You're special. You have abilities. Use them._

There was something very wrong with me. My post-traumatic stress disorder was growing worse by the hour. I was falling apart, shattering like a mirror after being hit with a bullet. There was no one there to piece me back together; to pick up every single shard and carefully place it back onto the once normal background. But that's not all that was wrong – I had these abilities. I had become abnormal, a freak of nature.

My psychiatrist, Dr. Turnstall, or Nancy as she preferred to be called, figured that my frequent panic attacks were caused by the flashbacks of the crash, but she was wrong. The flashbacks did happen, true, but they weren't the problem – my powers were. I was constantly afraid. I had no control over them. Things happened that I couldn't explain. Fires flaring up into sky with no extra kindling, completely inland pools becoming sloshing seas, wind speeds picking up and sweeping trees away for no apparent reason…these powers were the reason I would freak out. I didn't want to hurt anyone. I didn't want to see anyone to see me any differently than they did before the crash.

I thought all these things as I sat huddled in a corner of a snug café in Seattle. I cautiously surveyed my surroundings for any triggers before taking a sip of my vanilla chai latte. I had to be on constant alert for anything that could set off my emotions. My emotions seemed to be the base for these powers. I had to be guarded against anything that may excite or irritate me…or anything that could cause me extreme emotion.

I recognized the song that played near me, then realized my cell phone was ringing. I flipped it open and answered.

"Hello?"

"Lauren, it's me," said the voice. "I know it's your time off, but I really need someone on this new article. Do you think you could go into downtown Seattle and cover the piece about the protests going on about minimum wage? I had Joy Elliot on the case, but she called in with bronchitis this morning."

It was my editor in chief for the _Seattle Times_ newspaper, Mr. George Lewis.

"No problem, Mr. Lewis," I replied, not thinking before I really thought about it. "On my way. What angle would you like covered?"

"Whatever angle you think is best, Lauren. I trust your judgement."

 _You shouldn't,_ I thought. _I may have superpowers. My sanity may be slipping away. You really want to trust my judgement now?_

"Thanks, Mr. Lewis," I said cheerfully.

"Great! You're a lifesaver! Thank you so much," Mr. Lewis cried.

"No problem," I muttered as he hung up.

I sighed. That was stupid decision, but I had to live with it. I stuck with my decisions, and if I had made this decision, then I would stick with it like glue. I used to be much more sure of my decisions. But that was before I had these powers. Before I could go about my day and not worry about denting someone's car bumper or making some water jump out of someone's glass. That had happened several times, actually. I was in a different café yesterday and this redheaded woman had a glass of water on the table next to mine. I had just read a text from my mother and I suddenly became sad. I threw my hand up in distress and somehow, the water in the woman's cup splashed over the edge. I rushed out of there as quickly as I could.

I gathered my things, checking to see if I had a pen and a notepad in my purse (of course I did) and picked up my vanilla chai.

I exited the café and walked over to the bus. I didn't trust myself with a car anymore. I was afraid I would melt my engine or blow up my gasoline tank. I had started taking the bus as soon as I had accidentally imprinted my grip onto the handle of a silver spoon at Christmas dinner. I had been squeezing the life out of it during dessert when my Aunt Carol decided to harp on my sister, Karen, who was attending UCLA and majoring in film. Apparently, my powers were too strong for the poor, pathetic spoon as it almost bent in half.

I stepped onto the bus, showed the driver my pass, and brought out another notepad and pencil that I kept in my bag. However, this notebook was not for work, it was for my own writings. At the time, I had been writing my own novel. I had taken in the idea for it around freshman year of college, but hadn't started really developing it until a year later. But now I was almost finished. I was in the middle of writing one of the very last chapters before the accident. Thank goodness it hadn't burned along with most of my other belongings…

The bus came to a screeching halt at my stop and I quickly exited before I could do any damage with my stupid abilities.

I walked down a few blocks and turned a corner, skyscrapers and office buildings brushing up against the cloudy sky. I glanced up at one to see a banner draped across several windows. RAISE MINIMUM WAGE NOW it said. Clever, I know.

I jotted a note down in my reporter notebook about the sign and kept on walking. I turned another corner to see the street crammed with people. There were giant posters, signs being held up above the protesters' heads, and colorful banners, all advertising the same thing: the raise of the minimum wage here in Seattle.

The protest was peaceful. Nobody was breaking into the Fifth Avenue Theater or any of the shops surrounding it. Sometimes, somebody would begin to chant and most others would join in. I could see various different uniforms on the demonstrators, most fast food.

I scanned the crowd, palms clammy. I usually didn't get nervous when interviewing people for newspaper articles, but after the crash, I would get a touch of anxiety.

I strode up to a young woman, maybe around seventeen years old.

"Hi there," I greeted, smile most likely a bit strained. "My name's Lauren Peters and I'm a reporter with the Seattle Times. I was wondering if I could conduct a short interview with you?"

I flashed my press badge out of my bag and she nodded.

"Sure, why not?"

"Great." I held up my notepad and pen. "So what's your name and your age?"

"Katrina Pearson and I'm eighteen," the girl replied.

I jotted it down. "And you work for Jack in the Box?"

"That's right."

"And do you live here in Seattle alone?

"I do. I'm a student at the Seattle Art Institute and I took a job at Jack in the Box to help pay for school," Katrina explained. "I live in a dorm close by."

"So why do you think the minimum wage here in Seattle should be raised?" I urged.

"I think it's unfair," Katrina said firmly. "A lot of my fellow workers are also college students struggling to pay for school. We work hard and deal with some people who really aren't easy to deal with. And, you know, as a college student, that makes it even harder."

I simply nodded and wrote down what she said as accurately as I could. "One more question. How much do you think minimum wage should be raised?"

"I think we should be getting at least eleven dollars an hour."

I wrote that down and gave a small smile. "Thank you. I really appreciate – "

"Hey, we don't need any press here, lady!"

I frowned as a man about the same age as me pushed his way through the crowd to stand beside Katrina. He too wore a Jack in the Box t-shirt and, unlike Katrina, clutched a sign with another slogan that supported raising minimum wage.

"She's just asking me a few questions, Mark," Katrina defended. "It's nothing bad."

"Well, we don't want you here," Mark challenged me. "We're trying to have a peaceful protest and we don't need stupid reporters bogging us down with pathetic questions! All you're going to do is make us look like freaking idiots!"

"I'm here to receive information about your opinions about the minimum wage. I'm not here to make you seem like fools. It wouldn't really be reporting if I did, now, is it? Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go interview others in the crowd," I replied tartly. I turned back to Katrina. "Thank you for you cooperation. I really appreciate it."

"No problem," Katrina grinned.

I stood tall and straight as I walked past Mark, not daring to make any sort of eye contact. Usually, I would have, but I couldn't risk it. I was afraid of what my emotion would do to my powers.

Suddenly, I felt a yank on my bag and I was thrown backwards to face Mark. My anger spiked and my blood boiled.

"Let go of my purse," I spit.

"Not until you promise to leave all of us here alone," Mark growled.

"I am simply doing my job as a reporter, Mark. I was assigned this article and I need several more interviews. Let. Me. Go," I demanded as calmly as I could.

"Mark, stop that!" cried Katrina, pulling on his arm. "Just let it go! It's her job!"

At this point, our scuffle had caught the attention of several other protesters as well as a policeman.

"Not cool, dude!"

"Man, really?"

"Hey, let go of her!"

Mark simply did as they said, but shoved my bag against me in the process, causing me to fall over onto the pavement. The contents of my purse spilled out onto the sidewalk. There was a sharp pain in my left arm, right where I had had the compound fracture.

The policemen yelled at Mark to back off and knelt down next to me.

"Are you alright, miss?" he wondered.

I gasped, memories flooding back in a stream of horror.

 _Heat radiated off the ground and what was left of the plane around me. The sound of sirens echoed from a distant somewhere, but it was hard to tell how close they really were._

 _I cried out in pain as I attempted to move my left arm. I struggled to moved my head down to look at the damage done, but once I had, I wish I hadn't. Blood coated my forearm, so much so, I couldn't tell what had happened to it. It felt broken, too, but I wasn't a doctor, so how could I know?_

 _I suddenly felt quite ill, and leaned over the side of my seat and vomited onto the ground._

 _After emptying my stomach of its contents, I glanced down to see the seatbelt cutting into my abdomen. I reached over with my right hand and undid the belt, painfully peeling it from my belly._

 _I stayed in the seat, afraid to test out my balance. But I did look down at my legs to see my jean leg on fire. I felt no burn, just a slightly warm sensation. I patted it out with my good hand, blaming shock for the lack of agony._

" _Miss! MISS! STAY THERE! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"_

My vision cleared and I found myself still on the ground, hyperventilating. I stared up at the people surrounding me, their faces all the same terrified expression. I looked at them questionably, then saw what they were so afraid of: me.

As I carefully got to my feet, I saw a ring of fire surrounding me. Some protesters several rows behind were putting out their burning sign. My eyes widened as I felt my hands grow very warm. I recognized the feeling instantly.

 _It can't be true,_ I thought. _Please don't let it be true…_

I kept my gaze fixed on the theater poster on the side of one of the buildings as I lifted my hands up to my face. I could barely breathe as my eyes focused on them.

My hands were on fire.

People around me screamed. Some yelled that I was a freak. Others just simply yelled in surprise.

"What ARE you?!" Mark screeched.

I lowered my hands and my eyes flooded with tears.

"A monster," I whispered, not audible to the ears around me.

Grief, guilt, fear, and chaos hit me hard in the chest. I crumpled to my knees on the concrete. Everything I had been telling myself was true. I was a freak of nature, a mistake. That plane crash did something to me, something that I hoped could be reversed.

But that glimmer of hope flickered out as soon as I began to sob. The ground shook and rain started to pelt Seattle with a terrifying force.

People shouted and began to run. Some fell to the ground due to the earthquake. Somehow, I knew that it was me that was causing it, but I didn't know how to stop it.

I huddled against my knees as raindrops the size of pebbles pounded against my back, soaking my pea coat and knock-off Ugg boots.

The fire around me continued to crackle and spark. The pavement around me cracked and crumbled. The parking meter beside me began to twist like a pretzel, as did many of the others on the street.

Panic began to flood my system, rushing through my veins and arteries; pumping my heart faster and faster, filling my hands with a strange tingling I couldn't explain.

My breathing sped up. I felt faint, yet filled with power. I hyperventilated again, trying to calm myself down. But the panic took over me.

I let out a fresh stream of tears and yelled. "NOOOO!"

Rain came down as waterfalls, fires caught on all the way up my arms and spread further around me, thunderous booms told me that the pavement around me cracked even more, wind began to blow as if a hurricane was moving in, and cars began to shake and shudder.

I glanced up just in time to see a car down the street explode. The screams and shrieks of others filled the air, but they were muffled by the pouring of the rain.

"Hey! Hey, Lauren!"

I stared up at a redheaded woman who was just outside my circle of flames. Her red hair was plastered to the sides of her face and her black hoodie was soggy. The fire seemed to die down a bit the moment I laid eyes on her. I recognized her from somewhere...the café yesterday! It was her water that I controlled. She seemed to know that it was me that was causing all of this destruction, yet she showed no fear.

"You need to get away!" I told her. "You aren't safe here near me!"

"You need to calm down! You'll only cause more damage if you don't!" she replied.

I wanted to believe that calming myself down would put an end to the chaos around us, but I couldn't.

"I can't control this!" I countered. "I have no idea if it will work!"

"Just try it!" the woman yelled. "It can't hurt to try!"

She fell as another tremor rushed through the earth, causing her to stumble.

I closed my eyes in the midst of the pandemonium and thought of my family.

 _Remember what it was like before the accident,_ I told myself. _Think of Christmas as a child. Think of the one where mom and dad surprised us with a trip to Disneyland over spring break! Remember the joy you felt. Remember Karen's shouts of elation and Matt and Trevor bouncing around the living room, hugging mom and dad and saying 'thank you, thank you, thank you!' Remember Milly the golden retriever licking everyone, understanding that this was a time to celebrate and have fun. Remember…_

I felt the warmth fade away on my body. The ground stopped quaking and I could no longer feel water drumming into my back. The wind gentled to a soft breeze that carried the scent of saltwater into the streets of Seattle.

I felt the release of all these different emotions and let myself relax.

Suddenly, it was silent all around me.

I snapped open my eyes to see nothing but wreckage. Signs were broken, ink smeared across the once well-designed paper. Cracks in the pavement extended well beyond just this street. They snaked their way around the corner and most likely up the steep hills. The cars seemed to be in fine shape, except the one at the end that had exploded. The parking meters were an absolute mess. Most were bent into strange shapes and some were melted in different places.

I sighed in relief and put a hand to my forehead. I did it. That woman was right.

I glanced up above me to see the redhead standing right beside me, just inside the scorch marks on the blackened sidewalk.

"Nice job, kid. You've got some serious mojo," she said to me, a slight smirk playing around her lips.

I said nothing as she offered a hand to me, which I graciously accepted, standing quickly.

"Have I hurt anyone?" I asked quickly, the thought flying into my mind.

"Calm down, alright? We don't want another wave of this power. Let me worry about that, okay?"

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Who are you?"

"Name's Natasha Romanoff," she replied. "I'm with an organization that helps people like you."

I let out a dark chuckle. "You mean freaks?"

Natasha shook her head. "No, people who are special. There's nothing freakish about you, Lauren. You've just got a touch of abnormality, that's all."

I simply blinked, not caring to counteract her statement. "What kind of company is this?"

"It's called S.H.I.E.L.D. and that's all I can tell you right now. But trust me when I say that I – _we_ can help you control these abilities. And when you do, you can go back to living your black and white, normal life. What do you say?"

I smoothed back my blonde bangs and considered her offer for a moment.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Natasha whipped out a badge that resembled one that the FBI used. I stared at the emblem. I'd definitely seen this emblem before…but where?

"Believe me now, Ace?" she chuckled. "You've seen that symbol before, I can tell."

I nodded. "I'll go with you."

"Then we'd better go before the cops show up. Coulson will take care of it, I'm sure," Natasha grinned. "Come on."

And so I followed her.

* * *

 **Hi guys! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Elemental – the Untold Story! If you want to read more about Lauren and find out more about her powers, please, please, please review and follow! If nobody wants more, then I don't want to continue the story. :)**


	2. Questions

Chapter 2: Questions

* * *

 _If only I don't bend and break_

 _I'll meet you on the other side_

 _I'll meet you in the light_

 _If only I don't suffocate_

 _I'll meet you in the morning when you wake_

Bend and Break by Keane

* * *

I followed Natasha through the streets of Seattle, most people not even glancing at the two of us as we passed.

"Won't the police be looking for some reason behind what happened?" I wondered aloud.

"My supervisor is good with planting stories about 'unexplainable events' such as you," explained Natasha. "You can stop worrying about it."

"But if I'm coming with you, I'd like to first quit my job," I said. "I don't want my editor to freak when I don't show up in a few weeks after my break is done. Or do you already have that covered?"

"You know, for someone who's gone through hell this past month and a half, you're really a chatty Kathy, aren't you? But yes, we're dealing with it as we speak," she chuckled.

I straightened myself at her comment, raising one eyebrow. "I wouldn't say 'chatty Kathy' is the right description. I just like to know that things are being taken care of, especially when something like this has just happened."

"Well, you're efficient sounding, that's for sure. Fury will like that."

"Fury? Who's that?" I asked.

Natasha didn't respond. She looked down at my hands and back up at the city in front of her. "Your hands are still shaking."

"I did just destroy an entire block of Seattle all on my own," I said, an obvious tone to my voice.

"And also snappy," observed Natasha. "You and I will get along just fine, Lauren."

My head spun, making me remember our encounter at the café yesterday. "Another thing – how on earth do you know who I am? Are you some sort of spy? Were you sent by this S.H.I.E.L.D. organization to protect me?"

"Perceptive," she snorted. "You really are as smart as your file says. Yeah, you could say I'm a spy of sorts. I'm a field agent. S.H.I.E.L.D. sent me out here to monitor your current condition. And from what I've seen so far, you're not so stable."

"Well, duh," I quipped. "I survived a freaking plane crash and somehow walked away with whack-a-doo abilities, sunshine."

I thought it was pretty obvious I wasn't okay. For one, I had blown up a car, smashed up the street, set fire to my own body, and caused the biggest downpour of rain in Washington state history. Of course I was a bit freaked out. I should have been more than just a bit freaked out; I should have been _extremely_ freaked out.

But I wasn't. Using my powers had given me a rush, almost addicting. But I couldn't control these strange mutations. How was I supposed to use my abilities again if there was a risk of injuring others or me?

Natasha ignored my comment, merely quirking an eyebrow at me and smiling.

To my surprise, we turned right down a darkened alley way. I didn't verbally question it, as I thought I had annoyed the agent enough for now.

We turned right again and there, sitting at the end of the alley was a black SUV with its lights off. Natasha pointed at the man in the front seat and he revved the engine, flipping on the car's headlights. She climbed into shotgun, slamming the door behind her. She gestured to the back of the SUV.

I clutched my bag closer to my body and gulped. There I was, leaving everyone and everything behind to pursue answers to questions that had been churning in me for what seemed like eternity. This time, I was going to be like my old self – I would stick firmly to my decision. I had to go with Natasha.

I got into the back, just like she told me to, and slid into the middle seat, hands still shaking. I hadn't been in a car for about a month. I didn't trust myself in such a machine, and didn't want to end up injuring Natasha and the driver.

I willed myself to relax, soothing the constantly turning cogs that made up my ever busy brain. The car shivered as I settled into my seat and buckled my seatbelt. Natasha gave me an unreadable glance and swiveled back face the windshield.

The car pulled out of the alley way as Natasha and the man chatted.

"Nice to see you, Ward," Natasha greeted. "How was your last semester at the academy?"

"How do you think it went, Romanoff?" countered Ward.

"Kicked some ass, I'm sure," Natasha replied, amused.

"Yes I did," smiled Ward.

"Ward, this is Lauren Peters, the subject I've been observing for the past month."

Ward turned his head slightly and nodded, holding out a hand to shake. "Nice to meet you, Miss Peters. I'm Grant Ward, but you can just call me Ward."

"Lauren, and nice to meet you, too," I said, shaking his hand. "What academy did you just graduate from?"

"The S.H.I.E.L.D academy. Most of us who pursue a career at S.H.I.E.L.D. are required to attend and pass."

"What kind of academy was it?"

"Fight training, physical fitness, strategy, statistics, airplane control basics, that sort of stuff," Ward explained.

"You seem to have enjoyed it," I observed. There was a certain warmth to his voice that relayed some sort of admiration for the school and its classes.

"If that academy was built for anyone, it's Ward. He's like the perfect little field agent. Fury will be happy to assign you anywhere, kid," said Natasha.

"So where exactly are we going?" I inquired.

"Somewhere," Ward said shortly.

I paused for a moment, waiting for a more in-depth answer. "That's it? That's all you're going to tell me?"

"Yep, it's for your own safety," replied Ward.

I felt my frustration grow. I clenched my teeth together and fought back warmth that began to simmer in my hands. I looked down to see them turn bright red and orange, a small flame dancing across a couple fingers.

"Natasha," I called frantically. The car trembled a bit as we rounded a corner.

The redhead whipped around in her seat and her eyes hardened when she saw the state of my hands.

"Lauren, just calm down," she told me. "Close your eyes and do exactly what you did before. Think peaceful thoughts."

I nodded and closed my eyes, trying to think of another happy memory from my childhood.

"Step on it, Ward, I don't want to be a victim of another exploding car," I heard her bark at the young agent.

 _The beach,_ I thought quickly. _Think of the beach. Remember going there as a kid with mom, dad, Trevor, Matt, and Karen…Hawaii always had nice beaches. Remember the times you and Karen would go hunting for seashells and when you, dad, and Trevor built the most enormous sand castle. Remember the calming of the ocean as it lapped against your feet during the sunset, turning the water a light orange and blue…_

I don't know how long I sat in the back of the speeding car, trying to make sure I didn't blow it up or catch fire, but thinking of the beach certainly helped. Soon enough, the strange feeling passed, as well as the warmth in my hands.

"Lauren, we're here," I heard Natasha say. "You made it."

I opened my eyes, blinking several times to adjust to the sudden burst of light. I looked at my surroundings to discover that the car was parked on the tarmac of what looked like a private hanger at an airport. In front of the car was a plane of sorts, modern and ready for battle. I felt my anxiety spike, but nothing activated my powers.

"I'm riding in that, aren't I?" I deadpanned.

Natasha nodded grimly. "Sorry about that, Ace. We have to get there fast and the only way we can do that is by jet plane. And we've got to get moving. Fury is expecting us in a few hours."

I willed myself to move, to unbuckle my seatbelt and get out of the car, but I didn't. I sat there on the fresh-smelling leather seat in the back of the SUV simply frozen in place. I was stuck staring warily at the aircraft in front of me.

Even though it had only been a few months since the horrendous accident that ruined my life, I was surprised I could even lay my eyes on a plane. I hadn't been near the airport, nor had I planned on going to one unless there was an absolute emergency.

I didn't necessarily classify the current condition I was in as an emergency, but the longer I was near the public masses, the more dire the situation became. I was desperate for answers; desperate for something to make sense, for scientific reason why I became the way I am. Natasha told me that I could get all I needed and more from S.H.I.E.L.D. At the time, I thought I was insane (I nearly was) for choosing to follow her, but now I look back and realize that it was one of the best decisions I ever made.

"You alright?"

"Huh?"

I shook myself out of whatever daze I had just been sucked into and focused my hazy eyes on the redhead in the front seat. She wore an expression of concern.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I was just…remembering…that's all," I replied. I made my legs move and my hand open the car door beside me. The chilly wind bit at my cheeks, making them even pinker than usual.

"Can you do this?" she asked hesitantly.

I nodded at Natasha and we continued on toward the plane.

"I can stop myself from destroying Seattle," I muttered to myself. "I can ride in a friggin' airplane."

I hugged my damp pea coat around me tightly and crossed my arms as Natasha and I went up the ramp of the plane. Natasha smiled slightly as an older man came into view. He was wearing a suit and sunglasses, despite the fact that he was inside the plane.

"Nice to see you, Natasha," he greeted.

"Coulson," she nodded. She stopped beside him. "This is Lauren."

The man took off his sunglasses and held out a hand, smiling warmly. "Miss Peters. Pleasure's all mine. I'm Phil, Phil Coulson."

I shook his hand briefly. "You can just call me Lauren."

"I'm sorry we've had to keep this under wraps from you, Lauren," said Coulson. "S.H.I.E.L.D. insisted that Romanoff and I keep our surveillance from you. We thought you safer this way. I understand that it's been a hard month for you, but that's why I'm here, why S.H.I.E.L.D. is here; to give you the answers the both of us need."

"Wait, I'm going to become some sort of lab rat for you guys?" I sputtered. "Heck no."

"No, that's not what is going to happen at all," said Coulson. "We are going to have to do some medical testing, yes, but no being locked up in some dirty laboratory cell. We want to know why you became the way you are. I'm sure you're just as baffled as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s researchers are."

 _You can say that again,_ I thought.

* * *

The flight was dreadful. I listened to calming music for pretty much the entirety of the ride to Washington DC. It took around four hours to get there, and the entire time, I was on edge. My focus would slide in and out of the music in my ears and on the rumbling of the metal container thousands of feet above ground that I was trapped in.

As the plane was landing, I held on my seat for dear life. Natasha's hand settled on my shoulder, making sure that I was collected and not ready to burst into flame or tear the jet apart. As soon as the door opened, I scurried out as fast I could possibly scurry. Coulson chuckled slightly and trailed me, followed closely by Natasha. Ward had stayed in Seattle to help cover up the damage I did outside the Fifth Avenue Theater.

I stopped in my tracks as I noticed all those around me dressed in black. Some had guns in holsters; others clad in bulletproof vests carried rifles or shotguns. Some had clipboards and suits with ties and dress shoes. Most had some sort of badge or name tag.

"Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Lauren," Coulson said cheerily, gesturing to the building around him.

"Thanks," I replied warily.

"Agent Romanoff, you're dismissed," Coulson said, turning to the redhead. "We'll call you in if we need assistance."

"Thanks, Coulson," she said. "See you around, Lauren."

"Bye," I waved.

We watched for a moment as she stalked away, walking in the complete opposite direction we were about to head.

"It's strange that she took to you so fast," commented Coulson as we began to make our way out of the hanger.

"How so?"

"Natasha isn't always this friendly to those we bring in. She must see something in you."

"Like what?" I wondered.

Coulson shrugged. "Don't ask me. She's still a mystery even to me, and she's worked under me for several years. There's always something ticking away in that alert mind of hers."

I didn't respond. What kind of organization was this to recruit people like me and Natasha?

We kept on in silence. Once in a while, Coulson would have to swipe his security card through some machine so that we could enter another part of the building.

I had taken off my pea coat so that I was just in my warm sweater, jeans, and fake Ugg boots, but even then, I was too warm.

"So where exactly are we going?" I inquired politely.

"To see the head honcho himself, Nick Fury. He's the director of all activities here at S.H.I.E.L.D," Coulson explained.

"Why does he want to talk to me?"

"He wants to talk to you about what you've gone through. He'll probably tell you how things are going to work around here while you're with us. Oh, here's the office. Perfect timing."

I cracked my knuckles nervously as Coulson dialed in a security code on a keypad by the door. It swung open to reveal a large office. I couldn't see much of what was inside, but I knew that my future a waited me.

"Are you coming with me?"

Coulson shook his head. "Sorry, no."

I nodded in reply and stepped inside.

* * *

 **Hi guys! Sorry that this is just a filler chapter. I had a hard time writing it, so I hope you enjoyed it. Next chapter, you'll meet Fury and get to know Lauren a bit better. I hope you like her! I'm really trying to develop her well. Also, I hope you enjoyed Ward from Agents Of SHEILD's cameo. Thanks so much for reading and please review and follow. :)**


	3. Erudition

Chapter 3: Erudition

* * *

 _You're in control_

 _Is there anything you wanna know?_

 _The future's for discovering_

 _The space in which we're travelling_

 _From the top of the first page_

 _To the end of the last day_

 _From the start in your own way_

 _You just want somebody listening to what you say_

Square One by Coldplay

* * *

The office of Nick Fury was sleek and modern. The high-tech feel to it put me slightly on edge. I seemed to be in a sort of short hallway that opened up into a larger room. I assumed the desk was around the corner somewhere.

I reached up to run a hand through my messy blonde hair and ended up lifting water from a fish bowl resting on a table to the left into the air. My eyes widened and I froze in place. I slowly brought down my hand to my side which somehow gently placed the water back into the fishbowl. It seems the bug-eyed goldfish hadn't even noticed.

"Hope you didn't disturb Fish Stick too much, Miss Peters," said a voice around the corner.

I jumped slightly into the air, dropping my pea coat and sweater onto the spotless white carpet. I hurriedly picked them both off the ground and turned the corner to see who I assumed to be Nick Fury standing behind a large, modern desk, his back turned to me.

Glass was the foundation of these office's walls. The entire thing was one large window, almost like a human fish tank. Outside was the sprawling city of Washington DC. The building seemed to be on a hill overlooking the capital.

Then the realization of the name of the fish hit me. Without thinking, I blurted out, "did you really name your goldfish Fish Stick?"

Director Fury turned, revealing a black eyepatch over his left eye. He smiled slightly and put his hands on the back of his desk chair.

"Coulson's suggestion was Squiggles, so I went with the first thing that popped into my head. Might as well give the little guy a name that he might someday live up to. He's getting so fat that I actually could turn him into one."

Usually, I would have laughed, but given the situation, I wasn't exactly in a playful mood.

"Take a seat," suggested the director.

I hung my damp coat on the back of the comfy chair and sat, placing my bag by my feet.

"Miss Peters, you are one of the strangest cases I have ever dealt with," said Fury loudly. "And trust me, I've seen some mighty strange things in my day. I've been with S.H.I.E.L.D. since I was a teenager, which was probably before your parents even thought of having you. But you…you're plain weird, Miss Peters. What happened to you is unexplainable, even from our point of view. And things just don't get unexplainable here at S.H.I.E.L.D."

"How the heck did you guys even learn about my abilities?" I questioned. "I mean, I kept myself pretty hidden away."

"Think about it for a second. You're smart; I've seen your IQ test results. You've got some pretty big brains up there in that cranium, so think, just think. You're the only survivor of one of the most horrific airplane crashes in the history of the United States. You never gave any interviews, not to a newspaper, news channel, new website, or even a Facebook status. Usually people who live through something like this are bound to show up in social media somewhere, but you just disappeared. You refused the cameras and begged for your name not to be given out to the newspapers. There was obviously something wrong."

"I could just be a very private person," I pointed out. "So why did you pursue information about me?"

"We checked into records the hospital you stayed at took on you," Fury explained. "We're associated with the government and because it was a government run hospital, I was able to kiss a few asses and pull some strings. And let me just tell you that a couple of the nurses who tended to you were _very_ concerned."

I frowned at the statement. "Concerned?"

"You would show small signs of your powers while you slept, Miss Peters," said Fury. He grabbed a file off his desk and threw it open. "Says here, 'December 6, 2010, patient exhibited signs of fluctuating temperatures spanning from 107 degrees Fahrenheit to 98 degrees Fahrenheit.' 'December 7, 2010, patient exhibits more signs of fluctuating temperatures spanning from 98 degrees Fahrenheit to 140 degrees Fahrenheit.' Your body was flaming up even if you didn't mean to. Your abilities were settling into your body as you recovered from the crash."

"So you got all of your information from my medical records? How did you find out about the records?"

"We received a call from an undercover agent at the hospital. Told us something bizarre was going on, so we checked it out. Just so happens it was you, the one we already had questions about. Unfortunately for us, the answer to our questions just led us to even more questions."

"That's why I'm here," I replied. "Natasha told me I have a chance at finding out some answers."

"Good. That means we can get started sooner than we hoped," Fury nodded, almost relieved, as he sat down at his desk. He reached over and sprayed a bit of water on a small, spiny flowering cactus by his computer. "Paul McCartney."

I scrunched my eyebrows together. "Excuse me?"

The director gestured to the plant. "Paul McCartney. That's its name. John Lennon died a few weeks ago. I think I overwatered him."

I let out a small chuckle. "That's kind of – "

"Ironic, I know," interrupted Director Fury.

Suddenly, a buzzing sound plays out of a phone machine. Fury groaned and snatched the phone. "What is it now, Harris?"

I took the time to check my phone and was taken aback by how many missed calls I had.

I scrolled through to see that they were all from my family. They had probably seen something about my thrashing of that street on the news. At the time, it was already late in Maryland, and they'd all be worried sick that I hadn't gotten back to them.

I sent a quick text to each one of them, saying that I had been asleep for a long time and didn't see their calls until now. I knew that I would need to relay what my situation was like to them sometime. Over text message probably wasn't going to be the best way to do so.

"I'm just about to do that, so get your butt in gear and set up for tomorrow," finished Director Fury, slamming the phone back onto its holder. He rubbed his hand down his face and sighed. "Those stupid white coats…anyways, I'm going to brief you on how things are going to run with you here, Miss Peters. You're no lab rat. From what your file says, I knew you'd probably already accused Coulson of making you into one. Take it from the director himself – you're not some sacrificial golden monkey here. You'll be doing simple demonstrations of your powers for a few teams of researchers. Now, keep in mind that we will be taking blood and tissue samples merely for solving this genetic puzzle that you seem to be. However, we do have a room set up for you on one of the top floors. It's usually reserved for visiting government officials, so be grateful. Coulson will take you to the cafeteria to get some food in you, then you're hitting the hay. Be up by seven tomorrow. Eat some breakfast and head down to the labs by eight. Any agent will be happy to take you there. Any questions?"

"I'm assuming there's a bathroom connected to my room?" I asked.

"Yes, equipped with a toilet and a shower."

"And clothes? I don't have any but what I'm wearing."

"I had a few agents stop by and collect a few items from your apartment. They should be delivered up to your room by the time you arrive."

"Also, what is being done about the powers fiasco that I set off in Seattle? What is it being masked as?"

"You ask too many questions, Miss Peters. Now I suggest that you leave and go with Agent Coulson to the cafeteria for dinner. Just try not to set Paul on fire or disturb Fish Stick on your way out."

* * *

The next morning, I woke up disoriented. I hadn't slept well that night and being in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room didn't help.

My phone sang with beeps and ditty's, annoying me to death and startling me out of the only good sleep I seemed to get.

I threw the pillow beside me onto my face, squishing my nose, and moaned. I didn't want to get up. I wanted to sleep for another seven hours of sleep, but I knew that I couldn't. I was to find the answers to questions that had been seared into my brain since the day I caused a mini hurricane to sweep through the hospital I was stuck in after the crash.

I was honestly surprised I hadn't destroyed anything in the room yet. I had barged into the room last night and cried for about fifteen minutes straight, but nothing had happened. I felt a slight pressure in my chest, but it wasn't anything major. I figured it was from all the sobbing I had done the night before.

I got up, quickly got dressed in a white t-shirt, a black zip up hoodie, gray sweats, socks, and Birkenstocks and pulled my blonde hair up into a quick ponytail. I had a feeling I would be poked and prodded that day and wanted to be comfortable.

My dark blue eyes searched my reflection in the crystal-clear mirror in the bathroom. I was determined to find out about my abilities. I would get the solution to this problem. I might find a way to rid myself of this poison that I couldn't control. And S.H.I.E.L.D. could help me.

I retraced the steps Coulson and I took from the cafeteria to my room. I got lost once, but managed to discover that I simply turned down the wrong corridor.

I grabbed an unusually large breakfast of biscuits and gravy, fruit, sausage, pancakes, and a chai tea. The tea wasn't as good as the coffee shops I used to regular, but I could live with it.

I scouted out the room for Natasha or even Coulson, but I saw neither, so I sat alone.

I was nervous enough for the lab work and such to start that halfway through breakfast, I bent through two forks. I had to go back twice to get a new one. The second time, one lady behind the counter muttered, "Freaking mutants…"

While I honestly felt slightly offended, I also couldn't help but find it amusing. I wondered how many 'mutants' she had served over the years here at S.H.I.E.L.D.

As I was polishing off my fruit, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Friggin' – !" I started. I accidentally caused my water to raise up into the air. Sighing, I slowly lowered my hand, just as I done to the fish bowl that last night.

"Hold on there, kid, it's just me," said Natasha. She sat down across from me and grinned. "Ooh, see you've been roped into the infamous biscuits and gravy club here at the Pit."

"The Pit? Is that what you guys call the cafeteria?" I chuckled, taking a bite of the sausages. "Why the Pit?"

"You know like, the Pit," Natasha said, gesturing and straining the world. "You know sometimes people call Hell the Pit. Yeah, that's what the food is like."

"This isn't that bad," I replied. "I can barely make scrambled eggs on toast without screwing it up."

"I didn't take you for a bad cook," chuckled Natasha.

I merely raised my eyebrows and said, "You should have seen me in my high school cooking class. So if you don't like the Pit, why are you here?"

"Fury himself ordered me to bring you to the lab; said you might do better with a familiar face this early in the morning."

"I guess," I replied, finishing off my meal. "So let's get this whole shebang over with, shall we? I'd like to go back to Seattle."

"Good luck with that," joked Natasha as I stood and started to clear up my spot at the cafeteria table.

"Why?"

"Once you learn to control these powers, do you really think S.H.I.E.L.D. is going to let you out of their sight?"

I smiled. "Yeah, I do, especially if we can figure out a way to get them out of my system."

"Wait, you want them gone?" Natasha wondered in surprise. "If I had your powers, I would be itching to test these babies out, get them going and really understand them. But you want to rip these things out of you? What if it's not possible?"

"Then I live with being a forever single, abnormal freak for the rest of my life," I concluded as I slid my tray onto a rotating conveyer belt.

"Just like the rest of us here at S.H.I.E.L.D.," Natasha quipped.

Natasha and I were quiet as she led me down to the laboratories. Turns out, they were all in the basement. That didn't make me feel much better about being there. I accidently sent a tremor through the headquarters' foundations as I stepped off the elevator.

"Sorry," I said meekly to a group of people in white lab coats. They glared at me when what seemed to be a high-powered telescope wobbled on its shiny silver cart. Their stares continued to penetrate to my very soul as the elevator doors closed.

"Try not to wreck any of their toys or they'll get angry," said Natasha.

"I can see that," I said unenthusiastically.

We trudged down a long hallway, rooms filled with insane looking instruments and machinery. A few held what looked like dentist chairs underneath large needles or rays of sorts.

I shivered at the thought of being strapped into one of those chairs and stuck with that ginormous needle.

A beaker of what I concluded to be water froze solid as I passed by. My eyes widened. I had never done something like that before! Can I freeze water _and_ control it? What on earth am I?

"Fitz, Simmons!" called Natasha.

A woman who looked a couple years younger than me swiveled quickly on her heel as a younger man popped his head around the corner of the wall. Both wore protective goggles, gloves, and the ever standard lab coat.

"Agent Romanoff," greeted the woman in a cheerful English accent. "And you must be Miss Peters."

"Just here to deliver the subject," Natasha said. "See you later, Lauren."

And with that, she left me alone with the two scientists.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Peters," said the woman. "I'm Agent Simmons. You can just call me Jemma."

"You can call me Lauren," I replied, stuffing my hands in my hoodie pockets.

"I'm Fitz," said the man in a Scottish accent. "Pleasure."

"Hi," I said.

"Why don't you come on in? This is just our office. You can have a seat just there, in front of mine," Jemma told me kindly, gesturing into the room.

"Thank you," I smiled. I did as she said to.

"Sorry about the clutter," Fitz apologized. "We've just finished a department wide research project in the field. Haven't exactly had time to clean up."

"No, no, you're fine," I said.

I waited as they took off their gloves, goggles, and white coats.

Jemma sat down behind her desk, computer ready to go. Fitz rolled his chair up next to hers behind the desk and folded his hands in front of him.

"Fitz and I will be the ones helping you out while you're here in the labs," Jemma told me. "We're going to be running some tests and scans once you demonstrate exactly what you're able to do. For now, we'll be in here. Fitz and I need to ask some, unfortunately, quite personal questions about your abilities, such as how they've developed and how they've affected your body."

I nodded and gulped. This would turn out to be a very interesting few weeks…possibly months.

* * *

 **I am honestly so surprised! You guys seemed really interested in this story and in Lauren. I'm so glad you're all enjoying it so far. Now, I'm not going be updating as regularly as I want to, as I am busy and have other fanfics going. So I'm very sorry if it's a few months between posts.**

 **Thanks so far to all who've reviewed! It makes my day so much better reading all of your wonderful comments. Don't forget to review, favorite, and follow. Thanks so much for reading. :)**


	4. Answers

Chapter 4: Answers

* * *

 _And why'd you say,_

 _It's just another day, nothing in my way_

 _I don't want to go_

 _I don't want to stay_

 _So there's nothing left to say_

Nothing in My Way by Keane

* * *

Jemma was right. The questions proved to be somewhat uncomfortable for all of us, especially Fitz at times.

"Has your menstrual cycle changed drastically at all since the arrival of these abilities?" Jemma asked, keeping a professional tone of voice.

Fitz twirled the pencil in his hand and cleared his throat, face slightly pink, his writing utensil poised for my answer.

"Um, no, it's been the same," I replied, glancing down at my Birkenstock-clad feet, unable to look either scientist in the eye.

"And any unusual body hair growth in strange places?" Jemma wondered cheerfully.

Fitz groaned. "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes, Fitz, it is," demanded Jemma. "You of all people should know how important these questions can be!"

"Yeah, but it's obvious that Lauren hasn't experienced any new hair or irregular body functions! We've been at this for two hours now! How many questions are left?"

Jemma scrolled down the screen, eyes squinting. "Hmmm…we have eight questions left."

"How many have we done?" I asked.

"So far, we've done three hundred and forty-two," she answered promptly. "We're almost finished, so let's keep on."

Fitz sighed and I shifted in my seat again. My butt was growing numb from sitting for so long. I almost hoped we would start drawing blood and tissue samples already just so I could move around. But part of me was just fine answering questions. I hated needles and the sight of blood.

"Lauren, have you discovered anything you can do that relates to static electricity?"

"No, I have not."

"Anything to do with radiation or heat waves?"

"Uh, not that I'm aware of. I mean, I can make my hands and arms catch on fire like the Human Torch from the Fantastic Four, but that's pretty much it."

Fitz was suddenly alert and Jemma spun her moving chair so quickly I thought she might get whiplash.

"Your hands can catch on fire?" said Fitz, almost doubtful.

I nodded. "I can see if I can make them if you'd like."

Fitz began to confirm his curiosity, but Jemma put a hand on his arm. "Not right now, Fitz, we're in the middle of the questions! But that is actually fascinating."

"Were either of you informed of exactly what happened in Seattle?" I wondered. I would have thought that somebody would have reported back to them what Natasha witnessed.

The two shook their heads.

"Well, we've heard only rumors, but we were only assigned to your case this morning," explained Fitz. "We weren't given any specific details about it."

"Oh. I would have thought Director Fury or Agent Coulson would have told you something about the incident," I said, frowning.

"If you could tell us exactly what you can do and everything that took place in Seattle after these questions are done, that would be fantastic. Good, now that we've got that sorted –next question…"

After the six remaining questions were answered, Jemma announced that we were going to make our way down to the testing facility located on the other side of the basement.

"You can relay the story and your powers once we get there," she told me.

And so we set off, Fitz locking the office door behind us.

"Did you both go to the academy?" I asked.

"Yes, we graduated just last spring," Jemma replied. "Fitz and I went through together. Became best friends. S.H.I.E.L.D. liked the research we'd done together so much that they let us be partners. "

"How do you know about the academy?" Fitz inquired, slightly puzzled at my knowledge.

"After the incident, Natasha and another agent, Ward was his name, took me to the airplane hangar. Ward had just made it through the academy this year. Seemed like a pretty good agent," I said.

"We knew Grant in the academy," Jemma said.

"Came in the year after us," Fitz replied. "Bit of a prodigy on the field agent side."

"Is he younger than the two of you?"

"Oh, no, he's a few years older," said Jemma. "In the academy, field agents are typically older to start than those in the science departments."

"How old were you when you started in the academy?" I inquired.

"We were nineteen when we started, both of us already with doctorates and nothing to do with them," Fitz told me. "S.H.I.E.L.D. saw our potential and offered us spots in the academy. We accepted and here we are."

"Is it rude to ask how old you are now?" I said, chuckling slightly.

"Not at all," Jemma smiled. "I'm twenty one now. So is Fitz. We're the academy's youngest graduates."

My eyebrows rose. "You're two years younger than me and you already have two doctorate degrees? I've got my undergrad, but that's in journalism. I can't imagine going through two masters programs _and_ two doctorates before I was nineteen."

"I graduated high school at thirteen," Fitz told me. "I started attending university almost directly after."

"That's really young to start college. Was it intimidating for you?"

"Not really. Most of the other students were intimidated by me."

I managed a small smile in Fitz's direction.

"Where are you from, Lauren?" Jemma asked.

"I grew up in a small town called Ellensburg on the Eastern side of Washington. It's just your average college town. Quiet during the summer, packed full of students in the winter. It's a nice place to spend your childhood in," I explained. Then I continued to tell them about the incident in detail.

We rounded a corner and came upon a larger laboratory. There were no researchers bumbling about inside, searching for pieces to fit into a bigger puzzle. The room was dark, desolate.

Jemma was, by no means, deterred by these factors. She marched right in and flipped on the lights, machines humming in the background.

"Alright, let's begin," Jemma announced, sliding open a drawer and pulling on a pair of latex gloves. "I'll have to take a blood and tissue sample, Lauren, and while I'm analyzing them both, Fitz is going to help you determine what your powers are specifically."

I nodded. At the time, the sight of blood still gave me shivers. After what I'd seen when the plane crashed, whenever I saw even the teeniest amount of blood, I'd get flashbacks or feel nauseous.

"Where should I sit?" I wondered.

"You can just stand. It'll only be a second," replied Jemma.

I stood there, eyes squeezed shut, as Jemma did what she needed to do. I felt a deep ache in my arm as the needle pierced my flesh.

She took a swab of my mouth with a Q-tip and smudged the dampened end in a petri dish. "We'll have you figured out in no time, Lauren." She told me this with great confidence, something I wished I had at that moment in time. "I'm going to work over here in the lab while you and Fitz figure out your exact abilities."

"We're going to start the physical examination, if that's alright with you," Fitz said.

I nodded as Jemma plastered a band aid over the spot where the needle went in. Fitz opened up the chamber that took up the entire back wall and gestured. "After you."

I took a breath, willed myself control over my powers, and stepped inside, unsure of what was to become the bullet-proof glass that encased me after these tests were over with.

Fitz slid what seemed to be a holographic control pad up in front of him and spoke, his voice echoing into my fishbowl. "Can you hear me, Lauren?"

I winced at the volume level and static feedback. "A little too loud and clear."

He slid something to the left. "Sorry about that. Now you said that during the incident, rain started to come down, fire rose up in a circle of sorts around you, the ground shook, and the wind picked up?"

"There were also an, um, exploding car and melted parking meters thrown in there," I stammered.

Fitz turned to a laptop sitting next to the hologram and its pad on the countertop and typed. "Do you have any theories on what sort of abilities you might have?"

"I was thinking some sort of basic control over the weather, like harnessing the sun's rays to make fire and pushing and pulling the wind, but the exploding car doesn't really fit into that category," I replied.

"Neither do the parking meters," Fitz added, typing down more notes on the laptop. "So you mentioned earlier that you could control the fire?"

"Er…not exactly _control…_ but I can try to make it appear," I said.

"Let's try a bit of that and see where it takes us," Fitz suggested.

"Okay."

I raised my hand and focused on it, willing it to burst into flames, but nothing happened. I tried the other hand, waiting for the sparks, but still, nothing. I stood there awkwardly, most likely looking like a complete dimwit.

"Uh…what's going on in there?" Fitz inquired, perplexed.

I groaned. "Ugh, I don't know. It worked before, so why won't it work now?"

"Was there a trigger that set it off?"

"Usually it's some sort of extreme emotion."

"What emotions were you experiencing when it occurred the first time?"

"I was interviewing a teenage girl for the newspaper and this guy from her work cut in and started harassing me," I relayed. "I got pretty angry."

"Maybe your powers are trigged by just your anger. Would you like me to make you angry?" Fitz proposed.

"You can try," I told him. "But telling me that you're going to make me angry isn't actually going to get me angry."

"Well, just try not to hulk out on me if it works," Fitz joked.

"Ha ha," I mocked sarcastically.

"Lauren, you are so dumb. And, and your IQ scores aren't nearly as satisfying to you as they should be. You should be very, very ashamed of yourself. Y-you aren't—this isn't pissing you off, is it?" Fitz gave up.

I couldn't help but smile a little. "Sorry, no. You're too nice, Fitz. You sounded like you were a five year old trying to bully another kindergartener."

"How about this—your fashion sense is rank!" Fitz suggested, grinning at the end.

I shook my head. "You're moving backwards, Fitz."

"Well, what else am I supposed to say? Try focusing again."

"I tried. My hand won't ignite."

"Please try again."

"I told you, _it won't work."_

"Come on, Lauren, start the fire. Just focus again and— "

"Fitz, my hand's not going to flame up!"

"You're not even giving yourself a chance!"

"It's not going to WORK!"

And at my very last shout, I felt warmth climb up from my fingertips to my wrist. Fitz's eyes became as big as dinner plates as they stayed glued to my hand. I lifted it up to see fire. My hand was on fire.

A warm tingling sensation ran up and down my hand, but nothing burned. I felt no pain. It was almost nice.

"Aha! It _did_ work," Fitz said triumphantly, hurrying over and quickly typing.

I sighed as I realized he was egging me on. "Nice move there, Fitz."

"I did start university at fourteen. Got to give me some credit, Lauren," smiled the young scientist. "So it seems that your powers are set off by extreme emotion. What exactly were you feeling when the incident took place?"

"I was mad, obviously, but then I had a flashback to the plane crash and I guess somehow, during the flashback, I caught fire, the wind and the rain began, there was an earthquake, and the meters started to melt. There were other cars that shook, but only one exploded."

"Yes, but how did you _feel,_ Lauren?" urged Fitz. "That's technical information. I know it's personal, but in order to figure you out, I need to know."

I thought back to the day before, feeling as if it had happened months ago. "I was…terrified." My voice shook slightly, but I spoke slowly, trying to describe my emotions as precisely as possible. I leant sideways on the wall in front of me, the side of my head resting against the glass with my arms at my sides. "I was terrified I was going to get someone killed. And I'm not the type of person that could accidentally murder someone like that and walk away from it not feeling too much guilt; quite the opposite, really. I felt remorseful, though, too, confused, agitated, and wondering why on earth God would allow this to happen to me. I saw myself as a monster, a stick of dynamite ready to explode at any given moment in time. I was horrified with myself. I'm always in control of a situation, but this, this is when the chaos of my life really hit me. I'm not in control any more. Maybe I never was. And that is a truly scary realization."

It was silent on Fitz's end when I finished speaking. I couldn't see what he was doing, nor did I really care at the moment. I had sunk back into the seas of despair I seemed to dive in and out of on a daily basis since discovering my abilities. I had never been so depressed in my entire life.

It was about a half a minute of quiet before Fitz spoke. "Lauren…look down at your hands."

I frowned slightly, but did what he said. And what I was a witness to has stayed with me since.

I raised my hands once more to see something different on each hand. On the right, something swirled and churned, like a ball of ocean surrounding my fingers. It was water.

On the left, I felt a sort of cool breeze, but my hand seemed to sway like jelly in its current. Was this some sort of air control?

Fitz laughed a bit. "You did it! You got your water and wind to appear! So your powers are truly triggered by your emotions…fascinating. It reminds me of Dr. Banner's abilities."

Somehow, I found myself chuckling darkly, still mesmerized by my powers. "Maybe instead of turning green, my hair will change color."

Fitz chuckled again as he typed away.

"Do you think different emotions generate separate abilities?" I wondered aloud.

"It's possible," Fitz said. "Okay, so fire was caused by your anger, and, as a theory, anxiety or fear. Maybe sadness and guilt caused the water and air?"

"Seems so."

"You said you felt confused, correct? Try thinking about why and how you could have these powers, just as an experiment. We'll see what happens."

I nodded at the scientist's suggestion, turning back to face him in the process.

I shook my hands out, hoping that it extinguished the air and water. To my surprise it did, and I made a mental note to remember that technique for later.

I closed my eyes, thinking back to the first time I discovered my abilities. Technically, it was right after the plane crashed, when I woke up with my arm in serious pain and the fire on my pant leg. I assumed shock was the answer to that phenomenon, but I was clearly wrong.

As I thought more about when I recognized something was off with me, I couldn't help but go back to the scene in the plane's rubble. I could feel pressure weigh down heavily in my chest, as if an elephant had stepped onto my rib cage. My breathing quickened, forcing my lungs to contract and expand much faster than what is considered safe.

I opened my eyes only to see several shades of many colors blotting my vision. I felt myself clutch the glass in panic, attempting to find something to cling on to as my post-traumatic stress disorder flowed through me.

My hearing was gone. I didn't know if Fitz was asking a question or not. I didn't know if I was screaming. My vocal cords strained, but I had no reoccurrence of using them.

Memories flashed before my eyes, coming and going like lightning. I saw my bloodied arm, hand still clawed into the plane seat. I saw the charred and motionless bodies strewn all around the wreckage. I saw the blue and red flashing lights of emergency vehicles. I saw the medics rushing over to me and lifting me onto a stretcher. I saw the fire burning up what was left of my average, normal life. I saw darkness.

* * *

I heard voices before I saw the people attached to them. Everything was pitch black and all sounds seemed far away, as if I was submerged underwater. There was a faint beeping noise that went off repeatedly, but that, too, seemed miles away.

My eyes fluttered and a sickening feeling dropped into the pit of my stomach. I knew I was in bad shape. My head began to ache and throb, as if in rhythm with the beeping.

I opened my eyes only to shut them once more. The white light was absolutely blinding. I raised an arm to block out the light as I opened them again.

"Hi there, Lauren."

It was Jemma. I carefully turned my head to the side to see her in her white lab coat with a clipboard in hand. She smiled gently down at me, eyes still full of worry.

"Hi," I managed to choke out. My mouth was in desperate need of water.

"Here."

Jemma lifted a straw to my lips and I drank, relief hitting my empty stomach and making me feel instantly a bit better.

I let my head fall back, arm still blocking out the light. "What happened back there? All I can remember is…flashbacks. Just flashbacks; over and over and over again. Then there was this darkness and then I woke up here. Well, wherever here is."

"You're in the medical ward. When Fitz asked you to remember how puzzled you were about first discovering your abilities, he set off a chain reaction of sorts," Jemma explained. "You somehow had a panic attack, most likely caused by your PTSD, and…well…you sort of, er… _made a mess_ of the laboratory."

I groaned and let my raised arm fall onto my face. I sighed several times. "What's the damage…or I dare ask?"

"The glass wall is completely shattered. A lot of the equipment is being repaired, so you didn't actually damage too much. Although the floor is very much scorched, but only around where you were standing. A few bits of the ground burst through the floor near you, but they did nothing to the equipment. There are a few puddles of water here and there and my papers got blown around, but –"

"Did I hurt you or Fitz, Jemma?" I demanded.

"I'm completely unharmed," she answered, voice giving way to her nerves.

"Jemma, did I hurt Fitz?"

"Just a few stitches from cascading glass, that's all."

"How many?"

"Oh, just like I said, a few."

"Jemma. How many?"

"Um…eight. Right across the forehead."

I covered my face with my hands, the sharp tug of the IV in my arm startling me. "Crap!"

Guilt instantly weighed me down, building up in my chest. How much guilt could one person bear? I had a feeling that I would soon find out, and, later, I would.

"Is he angry?" I whispered, my free hand still over my eyes.

"With you?" asked Jemma. "No, of course he's not! He understands, we both do. Lauren, you can't control these abilities, yet. We may not have worked here at S.H.I.E.L.D. for long, but one thing that both of us have learned is that sometimes you can't help what takes place. If you could take back getting on that flight, I'm sure you would. I honestly wouldn't blame you. You've been through one hell of a jumble. I can't imagine being in your shoes. But I do have some good news. I may have found the source of your abilities and why you acquired them."

At this, my hand flew off my face; gripping the side of the hospital bed with such great force my knuckles were instantly white. My throat suddenly closed up. My mouth became dry, so dry that I couldn't even speak. I nodded, eyes probably huge and curious, begging for answers.

Jemma looked down at her clipboard, turned a few pages, and glanced back up at me. "This isn't normal, Lauren. What you lived through was a one in a billion chance. You should have died, but you didn't. When that plane went down in Washington, you crashed into a Nuclear power plant. I know that you probably already were aware of that, but your body absorbed much of the gamma radiation, something used to supercharge one person in particular who ended up becoming a legend: Steve Rogers, or Captain America as the world knew him. Captain America was an anomaly, much like yourself. He was an experiment, something cooked up in a beaker in a lab, but you…you're different, Lauren. You didn't have the precautions looked after for you. You were bare, unprotected. The gamma radiation mixed with all the other chemicals in the air, along with the fire, metal, water, air, and earth from the plane, reacted all at once on you."

"So you're saying that Captain America is the result of a controlled version of what happened to me?" I said, almost disbelieving.

"Yes," Jemma confirmed. "And because yours was not controlled, you picked up the elements around you in the mixture, literally the elements. That's why you can create fire, bend metal, make water and air appear, and move the earth."

"I've become more powerful over the past month," I replied quickly. "Why?"

"The radiation plus all the elements combined have had time to manifest in your body. They've had time to settle in."

"Captain America's powers were injected into his bloodstream and literally changed his DNA. I had nothing like that done to me, so why is it happening in the first place?" I questioned.

Jemma swiveled in her chair to look at the door behind us, as if checking for eavesdroppers. Her voice lowered substantially. "That's just it. I don't know. I've found something strange in your DNA from your tissue sample, but I can't identify it until I've seen previous test results or medical records."

My eyebrows shot up in shock. "You mean…alien?"

Jemma nodded slowly. "I'm not going to confirm, but it's entirely possible, especially after the whole situation with the Asgardian Thor that took place a few years ago in New Mexico."

I slowly shook my head. "No, no it can't be. My parents are my parents. My mother would have told me otherwise. That doesn't make sense. Clearly something is wrong with me. Is it possible to have DNA change over time?"

"You know it's not," Jemma told me knowingly.

She was right. I did know. My mind was racing with every bit of information Jemma had just laid before me. I knew that I needed to make a phone call. I was relieved to know exactly what my power was, but this had added even more to my ever-growing pile of distress.

I threw those thoughts to the back of my mind and turned the conversation back to my abilities. "I assume Fitz told you about the emotional connection with my powers."

"He did, and we both concluded that your powers aren't just connected with your emotions, but your heart rate. Every time your heart rate increases drastically, your abilities are put into play. If you can learn to channel your emotions into using your powers, then maybe you can learn to control them."

I nodded. "I can try."

"It's going to take some time, so you'd better call your family," Jemma told me. "Trust me, it's not going to be easy. But you can't tell them about S.H.I.E.L.D., no matter the circumstance. Your situation is a special one, and I would advise against letting them know about your abilities."

"They're going to find out sometime," I countered.

"Yes, they will, but over a conversation on your mobile may not be the best option."

My lips twitched into an almost-smile, but then they dropped back into a straight line.

Jemma put a hand on my arm and forced a small smile of her own. "You're going to stay for just a few hours longer until the medical team says you're dismissed. I'd take the time to call. I'll see you soon, alright?"

And with that, she left, closing the door softly behind her. And as the door shut, I collapsed into a puddle of tears, a slight breeze suddenly swirling in a current around the room. My life was never to be the same, and neither was my family's.

* * *

 **Hi there, everyone! I am amazed at how much attention this fic has gotten over the past month. Thank you all so much for all your kind reviews. It really does mean a lot.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I know it was a bit longer than usual, but there were a lot of things I felt needed to be done. Soon, we'll get into the real nit and grit of Lauren's own storyline, and after that, Steve will be coming into the picture! Yay!**

 **Also, to answer a few of your questions, yes, the Avengers will be showing up. This story will be covering the Avengers, The Winter Soldier, and Age of Ultron. And obviously, if more movies come out, I will most likely be adding those in after Ultron or making them into a sequel to this one. I also might be dividing up Lauren's story into four parts since I have her own original storyline, the Avengers, Winter Soldier, and Ultron. But what do you guys think? Should they be different stories or just one altogether? Let me know in the reviews!**

 **Again, thanks so much for reading. Remember to leave a review and follow or favorite if you like this fic.**


	5. Revolving

Chapter 5: Revolving

* * *

 _So this is where you fell_

 _And I am left to sell_

 _The path from heaven runs through miles of clouded hell_

 _Right to the top_

 _Don't look back_

 _Turning to rags and giving the commodities a rain check_

It's Time by Imagine Dragons

* * *

It was in that moment that I lost all hope. Before, I was somehow, just in the slightest way possible, optimistic about finding an antidote to this poison that was eating away at my mind, at my body, and at who I was.

As I lay there on the hospital bed, IV stuck in my arm, supernatural abilities coursing through my very being, I realized that I would never live my life like I had planned.

In high school, I took this class. It was actually somewhat useful, as a matter of fact. It taught us about getting jobs, how to write resumes, how to take care of your finances, that sort of stuff. At one point, we had to make a plan for our lives. I was the type of student who had planned this out years before, in middle school. I made this poster mapping out the next twenty or so years. And so far in my life, I had accomplished what I had set out to do. I had graduated from high school, successfully navigated my way through college, graduated with honors in journalism, and gotten a well-paying job. I had even gotten ahead of my writing goal, which was to finish writing my book when I was around twenty five.

So there I was at twenty three, ahead of the game, searching for the next stepping stone on my life's path. Then the crash happened and the path was destroyed. The path was completely ripped out of the ground and smashed to dust. It was gone, never to be trod on again.

All this went racing through my mind, tears pouring down my face. It was then that I knew I couldn't be who I wanted. I didn't know who I was or wanted to be. I did know this: I was not the person I planned on being. Not anymore. That person was long gone, buried beneath the untrodden path that I had so willingly designed.

I let the tears roll down my face. I couldn't just let these feelings pass by wiping them away – I had to deal with them, and damn it, I was dealing with them now.

I don't know how long I lay there, but it was long enough that my tears dried on my cheeks and the harsh wind whipping my hair a few papers around died down to a quiet breeze. It was time to call my parents. But what would I tell them? 'Oh, hi, mom. Yeah, I'm fantastic. I just have these superpowers that I can't control so I quit my job and decided to take a chance on this random agency that claims to be able to help me. I'll be stuck here for a while, and I don't know how long, so I'll see you in a year or two!' Yeah, that would play over really well with mom.

I thought for a moment about what I'd say to my mother and father and to my three other siblings. What would they being doing?

Karen was in high school, probably in class so calling her first was not the best plan. Matt was in college, also most likely in class. Trevor would have been at the office, doing his duty as a doctor. I sighed as I realized that I would get the hardest conversations out of the way first – mom and dad.

I panicked for a moment when I didn't feel my phone weighing down my sweatpants pocket, but calmed when I saw it sitting on the table to my right. I picked it up in my non-IV'd hand, dialed my home phone number, and took a deep breath. I had to lie to my parents. I hated doing it, but they couldn't know about S.H.I.E.L.D., not now, at least. I didn't want to make them targets of any S.H.I.E.L.D. enemies. I'd confess later, when it was safe to.

"Hi there, honey! What's going on? You don't usually call in the middle of the day."

Just the sound of my mother's voice was enough to squeeze a few tears out my eye. I cleared my throat and attempted to sound like I hadn't been sobbing my eyes out for the past…however long I had been crying. "H-hi, mom. How are you?"

"I'm doing good, how about you? Those nightmares finally stop?" she asked kindly.

"Um, they're getting much better."

"Good! I hated having to hear you cry in your sleep when you were home at Christmas. It made me sad for you. So you're feeling better overall?"

I blinked more tears out of my eyes. I despised lying to her. She's my mom for goodness sake and she cares too much about my wellbeing for me to have had to lie to her. "Definitely. I don't have them nearly as much anymore."

"So why are you calling in the middle of a work day? Did Mr. Lewis finally let you off your break?" wondered my mom.

"Yeah, that's why I'm calling," I lied smoothly. "He's sending me out to Washington D.C. by car for a press conference. I'll be gone for about a month or so. He just kind of sprung it on me or else I would have told you sooner, maybe driven over the mountains to see you, dad, and Karen. And possibly Matt if he'd gotten his butt off his dorm bed in time."

"Are you serious?" She groaned loudly into the phone. "Well, we'll miss you. When do you think you'll be back?"

"Probably a month," I said. "But you never know."

"Okay, honey, thanks for letting me know. I'll be sure to tell your dad and sister you called. Those two are like peas in a pod. You know your father, always the movie critic. Karen's picked that all up from him."

I couldn't help but chuckle. That was the truth. "You couldn't be more right, mom. Love you! Talk to you soon."

"Love you, too, Lauren! Don't forget to call your old mom and pop back in Ellensburg," joked mom.

"Mom, I could never forget you and dad. Love you, bye."

"Bye!"

I hung up slowly, cherishing the short conversation I'd just had with my mother. Who knew how long before I'd see her or my family again.

More tears began to leak from my eyes, and, this time, I wiped them away.

* * *

It was fifteen minutes after my phone call that the door opened with a creak. It was Jemma, holding a cafeteria tray.

"Hi, Lauren," she greeted gently. "How are you feeling?"

"I've certainly been better," I replied as she set down the tray on the table beside me.

"Let's get this IV out of you, shall we? I never liked these, having them in me or putting them in others."

I nodded. She set to work immediately.

"I brought you lunch," she said. "I figured you might be hungry. I noticed your lack of nutrients when I took your blood sample. How has your diet been?"

I shrugged. "Pretty normal. I've been much more hungry lately, but I've resisted eating more than usual."

"Well, since your body is using more energy for your abilities, it seems that you need to actually eat more than you used to. You need the extra nutrients to keep you going," Jemma explained as she slid the needle from my arm.

I smiled slightly. "Thanks. That's really thoughtful of you."

"I'll let you eat, so I'll be back soon," she told me, cleaning up my hand and plastering a band aid over the IV hole.

I nodded in thanks as she exited my room. I glanced over at the tray of food and transferred it to the table on wheels on the other side of my bed. I pulled the table closer to me so that it was situated over my lap. Jemma had been kind enough to get me a couple grilled cheese sandwiches, a large green apple, a bowl of what smelled like tomato soup, two cups of tea, and a bottle of water.

A small smile creeped its way to my mouth. I was glad to have Jemma as the lead researcher on my case. I felt like she and I would be friends.

I had just eaten every crumb of the first grilled cheese when I heard a soft knock on my door. Was Jemma back already?

"Intrude," I called, biting into my apple.

The door opened and there stood Natasha. A sympathetic look graced her features as she crossed to my bed and sat.

"You know, at all my years here at S.H.I.E.L.D., I've never heard somebody say 'intrude' as a means of permission to enter a room," she chuckled.

Despite my mood, I laughed. "Well, given my current condition, I think I need some sort of entertainment. Sarcasm is my specialty."

"Yeah, I picked up on that pretty quickly," the redhead replied. "Coulson told me what happened. You alright, kid?"

I shrugged. How else was I supposed to respond?

"I guess. For goodness sakes, I destroyed part of a city and now I completely totaled a professional laboratory. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about any of this."

"You don't need to know. It's part of gaining these abilities. Trust me, I know."

My eyebrows scrunched together. "You don't have powers."

"I don't, but I understand what it feels like to not be in control. I went through some real crap gaining my own abilities when I was younger. It's not a situation I would willingly put myself in again. But I do know what you're feeling, and trust me, it will go away."

"Maybe if I could control my powers for more than an hour at a time, I'd get somewhere," I said, annoyed, pulling my bowl of soup towards me.

"Part of that is learning exactly what you're capable of," Natasha said. "You'll get there at some point."

"But once I get there, what the hell am I supposed to use these powers for? Daily chores? Can you see me working at a coffee shop and heating up the water without using the pots? I think that'd be a bit suspicious, don't you?" I counter.

"You'll work here," said Natasha firmly.

"Here?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. always needs those with special abilities out in the field."

"Alright, so say I do learn control. What kind of field work are you talking about?"

Natasha shrugged. "Anything, really. You could recruit new mutants like you and help them cope with their newfound abilities, you could go on missions for Fury and Coulson, do office work, anything really. Fury already seems to like you. He's already told Coulson about you mocking his cactus and his goldfish."

I took a bite of soup and thought for a moment. "I can really go on missions? _And_ use my abilities on these missions?"

Natasha nodded.

"And nobody will find it suspicious?"

She laughed. "Well, yes, it would be suspicious to people, but that's why you're a secret agent – it's kind of secret, and that goes along with your identity while on the job."

I nodded, kind of warming up to the idea. "And you, Natasha Romanoff, you've got a secret identity as an agent?"

"They call me Black Widow, or just Agent Romanoff. Coulson likes to come up with fun nicknames for all the operatives."

"Who came up with that?"

"Agent Barton. You'll have to meet him soon. He'd like you."

"Do all you S.H.I.E.L.D. employees have names that sound like they come from comic books?" I chuckled.

Natasha smirked. "We kind of do, don't we?"

"Well, once I learn how to control my powers, I know I can't go back to normal life. I mean, I could, but I don't think it would ever feel the same, you know?"

She nodded. "I do."

"So I want to learn how to fight; how to use my powers for some good in this world. What's the point of having something special if you never use it? And maybe you can train me."

"Are you sure you want _me_ to train you?"

"Why not? If you've got a knack for this, why not help me out?"

Natasha scoffed. "I'm a terrible teacher. Just ask Barton."

"Then have Barton teach me," I argued. "I want to learn from the best."

Natasha just stared at me, surprised expression on her face. "And you're serious."

"Duh."

She held up her hands in defeat and stood. "Fine. But it won't be a walk in the park, kid. Your butt's gonna get some serious beatings. You'll have more bruises than skin after the first hour."

"I don't care," I said determinedly. "I want to make a difference in this world. If I have to do it by saving people and hunting things, then so be it."

Natasha froze for a moment. "Did you just quote Supernatural?"

I raised a brow. "What's that?"

She shook her head and waved it off. "Never mind. But remember, once you get those abilities in gear, your training starts. Today you should go talk to Coulson, get it all straightened out with him. He's the one who's in charge of your care."

I nodded. "Got it."

"Kick that mojo's butt, kid," she encouraged as she walked out.

 _I will,_ I thought fiercely.

I quickly finished off my lunch, head spinning with ideas on how I could incorporate my abilities into training. How will I control the air and use it to my advantage? Could the fire help? Could I make my own shield with metal?

"Lauren, are you up for going to see Fitz? He's being discharged from the medical ward now," Jemma told me as she strode back in, clipboard in hand.

My heart sunk a bit. I had completely forgotten about Fitz's injury. "Is he going to want to see me?"

"He's been asking about you since I told him you were up and kicking," she said cheerfully.

I flipped over my covers, swung my legs over the side of the hospital bed, and slid my feet into my sandals. "Let's get to it then. And if he's feeling up to it, let's get going with the testing again. I want to get these abilities whipped into shape."

Jemma seemed puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"Jemma, I can't be a reporter," I said. "The reason I wanted to be one was not only because of my love for writing, but changing the way newspapers were seen. I wanted to report the truth; the raw, unbiased, naked truth. I wanted to change the world. But these powers came; these stupid, stupid powers. Nothing about my life will be the same, including my goals. And right now, my main goal is to make sure that these abilities are under my regulation. I want to keep the world safe from people like me who don't know how to be in control of their abilities. I'm not going to change it; I'm going to save it. The only way I can do that is by knowing how to make sure I can keep others safe from myself first. So let's get our tails into gear and get hopping."

Jemma merely raised her eyebrows at me in shock and nodded. "Alright then, if you're that determined, we'll ask Fitz if he's ready to come back. Follow me."

And I did follow her, straight into my future.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading this chapter! I've had a few problems with this one. I had a hard time with the dialogue, specifically between Natasha and Lauren. Please give me your feedback! I am always up for some kind and constructive criticism. We will be meeting Clint in the next chapter or two and getting into the real nit and grit of Lauren's original plotline. And we'll be meeting Steve Rogers in about ten or so chapters! Yay! I love Cap. :)**

 **I didn't get as many reviews as I would have liked last chapter, so let's see if we can raise the review count to thirteen! But thanks so much for your lovely and kind reviews. It brings a smile to my face when I see people loving Lauren and her character and making future predictions about her relationship with other Marvel characters.**

 **Don't forget to review, follow, and favorite! :) (I'll try to do a longer chapter next time! Sorry if this isn't as good as usual!)**


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